


[Kink Meme Fill] - Hermaphrodite!Atem

by Stealth_Noodle



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Canon - Anime, Genderbending, Hand Jobs, Humor, M/M, Memory World, Mid-Canon, Porn, Unexpected Vagina, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-08
Updated: 2010-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-09 17:27:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/89856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stealth_Noodle/pseuds/Stealth_Noodle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The pharaoh has some trouble adapting to his body in the Memory World, and Kaiba seems to be having the strangest wet dream ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	[Kink Meme Fill] - Hermaphrodite!Atem

**Author's Note:**

> For a prompt asking for Hermaphrodite!Atem/anyone. Kaiba is always an appropriate "anyone."

They got off to a bad start. To be fair, the pharaoh didn't think that he and Kaiba had ever begun a conversation on the right foot, and the timing for this one could hardly have been worse. And it was half the fault of the spirit of the Ring for involving Kaiba in the first place.

Still, Kaiba himself bore a lot of blame for opening with, "So, Yuugi, is there a reason you've drugged me and dragged me to your wacky cosplay party?

"I'm not Yuugi," muttered the pharaoh, for all the good he expected it to do. Not wishing to have this discussion within earshot of someone who was trying to mourn in peace, he headed for the relative privacy of the columns behind them, gesturing for Kaiba to follow. He waited until they were safely shadowed from sight before saying, "Listen to me, and don't interrupt. We're playing a very elaborate magical board game. Well, I'm playing it, at least. You're here because the evil Bakura alternates being crazy like a fox with just being crazy." He glanced in the direction of the stone tablet before continuing, "Anyway, it's profoundly dangerous, that man over there is—was?—is you three thousand years ago, and I'm in a bit of a hurry because we're in the middle of a countdown to the resurrection of a nigh-indestructible dark god. Which means—dammit, Kaiba!"

While Kaiba had not, technically, interrupted, he was giving the pharaoh a look normally reserved for crumb-covered children who deny all of knowledge of what happened to the cookies.

The pharaoh ground his teeth until he felt slightly less inclined to beat his rival about the head—or waist, or however high he could reach without finding something to stand on. "Listen to me," he snapped. "This is a matter of life and death. We're in a Shadow Game." 

Over the course of two years of dealing with Kaiba, the pharaoh had become nearly fluent in the vocabulary of his facial tics. The subtle twitching of his left eye at "Shadow Game," for instance, indicated that the phrase was being marked defective and shunted aside before it wasted valuable mental processing power. Sometimes the pharaoh wondered if he could give Kaiba epilepsy by explaining how a soul room worked.

Now Kaiba's lips were pressing into a flat line as his eyes narrowed, which meant that everything the pharaoh had just said was being wiped clean from the blackboard of short-term memory. "So seriously," said Kaiba, "where the hell am I?"

"I _told_ you. Magical board game, based on my memories from three thousand years ago." When Kaiba's eye twitched like a hummingbird's wing, the pharaoh sighed sullenly. He'd hoped it wouldn't come to this. "You don't believe me. Fine. I'll show you proof."

"Proof." Kaiba's voice dripped with condescension.

"Yes. Proof." After a quick look to ensure that they were still alone, the pharaoh took a deep breath and yanked the hem of his tunic above his waist. To his chagrin, his potentially view-obscuring dangly bit helpfully rose out of the way on its own.

There was a very long silence, during which Kaiba did his best impression of a sphinx. His voice was only a little strangled-sounding when he said, "Yuugi, what the hell is that?"

The pharaoh scoffed and let his tunic fall. "With all that time you spend on your computer, don't tell me you've never looked at—"

"Don't change the subject." Kaiba's glare could have etched glass. "What the hell is it doing on _you_?"

"Inexplicably moistening" was not a constructive answer, so the pharaoh went with "I wish I knew. It was there when I woke up in this body."

There came another twitch at "in this body," but it happened slowly and under the wrong eye. Apparently a wire or two had crossed in the convoluted machinery of Kaiba's brain. He even sounded a little shaken when he said, "Whatever. You looked pretty excited about it. I always knew you were a freak, Yuugi, but this is a new low."

A vein threatened to burst in the pharaoh's forehead. "I didn't ask for this, Kaiba! It's been nothing but trouble!"

"Trouble" was a nice, neutral word for what happened when a fascinating dream ("Why, Yuugi, Anzu, and Jounouchi! I had no idea you all felt that way about each other! And what's that? You want me to join you?") turned into a waking lesson on where little Marshmallons came from. The pharaoh was also partial to the word "bellowed," which had a much better ring to it than "shrieked like a little girl."

He couldn't think of an acceptable word for the experience of receiving a facts-of-divine-life lecture from a doppelgänger of Yuugi's grandfather, particularly one that ended with "That's why you have concubines, you know—so you don't keep making a mess." The pharaoh could have died a happy god-king without ever hearing the phrase "spontaneously life-giving loins."

"Wait, what was that even supposed to prove?" Gears ground almost audibly in Kaiba's head. "That you've blown all your tournament winnings on plastic surgery? That you bought enough of that dark make-up to cover all your skin?"

Mostly it proved that too much blood had rushed away from the head the pharaoh was trying to think with. His twin sets of genitalia somehow knew enough to conspire together, demonstrating mastery of both tag-team and double-assault strategies to overwhelm him in ways for which Yuugi's very normal teenage-boy sex drive had not prepared him. He had no idea what the female part wanted, exactly, but it was fast becoming petulant.

"Excuse me," the pharaoh muttered, sidling toward an alcove. "I need to take care of something."

Kaiba caught him by the arm. "I'm hallucinating," he declared confidently.

"No, you're not." Human contact—even Kaiba contact—only exacerbated the pharaoh's need to find a private corner and get his circulatory system back on track. As long as he satisfied the more familiar of his problems, the other would lie sympathetically dormant for at least a few hours.

"I am out of my mind on illegal drugs," Kaiba continued. "I am having drug-dreams. You're not even _real_."

For a desperate moment, the pharaoh tried informing his unwelcome female part that it wasn't real, either. It knew better.

"Or is it just some kind of weird fetish gear?" Before the pharaoh could mount a coherent protest, Kaiba's free hand snaked up beneath his tunic. "I bet it's silicone, or maybe—"

It took an enormous act of willpower for the pharaoh to keep his hips from rocking. His lower lip bled between his teeth.

Kaiba's eyes fixed on a space somewhere over the pharaoh's shoulder. "It's wet," he said accusingly.

"And that's your fault!" The pharaoh's breaths came faster and heavier than he wanted. "Now get your damned fingers out of there and give me a minute alone, and then I can finish explaining to you that this is a Shadow Game and you are an idiot and what did you just do?"

Kaiba did it again, fascination suffusing his expression, and withdrew his hand at the same moment the pharaoh decided to let his hips do whatever they wanted and damn the consequences. The pharaoh's glare was probably somewhat spoiled by the flush he felt rising in his face.

"Just so we're clear," said Kaiba, in a strange, half-husky voice, "I'm having a completely bizarre dream right now."

The pharaoh no longer cared what he was having. "Fine, whatever makes you happy. Just don't get sand in there."

With a snort of a laugh, Kaiba slid his hand back into place, and this time the pharaoh bucked recklessly against it, closing his eyes as he grabbed Kaiba's shoulders for balance. He let out a groan of irritation when Kaiba's other hand pushed him back against a column, forcing his feet up on a step. The sound cracked open into a gasp as Kaiba's fingers curled intriguingly upward.

"Hold still."

The second hand left him; the movements of the first became perfunctory. Clinking and the whisper of leather registered in the pharaoh's ears. He opened his eyes impatiently in time to watch Kaiba finish freeing himself, one-handed, from his belt. The pants he unfastened more easily, and delightful things began to happen again inside the pharaoh as Kaiba used his free hand to stroke himself.

Nevertheless, there were better places for that hand to be. The pharaoh reached out and wrapped his fingers around Kaiba's cock, saying, "No. You touch _me_."

Yuugi's very normal teenage-boy sex drive had more than adequately prepared the pharaoh for dealing with this sort of anatomy. A noise that might have been intended as disagreement turned approving in Kaiba's throat, and the pharaoh felt a smug thrill of success as his own erection received a bit of much-wanted attention. Kaiba had probably just pinned an out-of-order sign to his disbelief engine and let the rest of the mental machine hum along without it.

The pharaoh experimented, teasing his thumb against the underside of the shaft, and was rewarded by Kaiba's shuddering and burying his face against the pharaoh's bare shoulder. He smirked and repeated the move, harder. Kaiba hissed and shivered before raising his head.

"See?" the pharaoh panted. "If this was—ahh!—make-up, it would be all over your—"

"Shut up." 

Kaiba's fingers found a spot sensitive enough to forestall further argument. Biting back a cry, the pharaoh arched his back against the column. His hand pumped so erratically he was shocked when Kaiba spurted over his fingers with a low, ragged moan.

A split-second worry shot through the pharaoh's mind, that Kaiba would now laugh and declare himself the victor and stop touching the pharaoh's less familiar places in ways that made him burn and tremble. The thought evaporated when release gathered in the pit of his stomach like a wave of lightning, then broke and rippled out in swells as he shook and grasped and babbled without dignity.

He hadn't realized they could both come at once. The pharaoh found himself infinitely less resentful.

Through his daze he heard breathy laughter. His eyelids fluttered open on the sight of Kaiba using his cape as a towel and announcing, "I win."

The pharaoh scowled and snatched his cape back with as much force as his muscles would grant him. "You don't win by coming _first_."

"Learn to lose gracefully, Yuugi."

He sighed but let it go. His brain wanted to focus on other things, like slumping more or less upright against the column, enjoying the tingling in the soles of his feet, and figuring out what the hell he was going to do with the mess on his own hand. Kaiba had chosen to sit down with his back against an opposing column, too far away for revenge-wiping.

It occurred to the pharaoh that while he might have solved the problem of his libido, he still had his loins' spontaneous life-giving to contend with. He fumbled his cape out for inspection and frowned haplessly at the pearly streaks coalescing and rolling like sticky little marbles to the ground. With a string of muttered curses, he turned to Kaiba and said, "You should have swallowed that or something."

Kaiba scoffed. "In your dreams."

"That's not why I—well, never mind. It's too late now."

To the pharaoh's chagrin, the mess rolled itself up into a sand-encrusted glob, then began to bud off into fast-expanding lumps of brown fur. The largest of these rolled into the nearest pillar and let out an indignant coo before sprouting eyes and feet. 

Kaiba blanched. "Are those—"

"Yes. We don't talk about them." 

The newborn Kuriboh nuzzled damply against the pharaoh's shin and was sent flying off down the hall for its trouble.

"Shit." Kaiba closed his eyes and began to rub his temples. "And some people use drugs recreationally."

"I told you you're not drugged."

"Well, I obviously didn't just finger you in the middle of an outdoor costume party, so there must be something interfering with my brain chemistry." A second Kuriboh snuggling against Kaiba's feet set off a full-body twitch. "When I find out what you doped me with, you're going to spend the rest of your life as a high-demand prison bitch."

The pharaoh rolled his eyes and crossed over to where Kaiba was seated, nudging aside three affectionate Kuribohs on his way. Careful to keep his tunic as a protective barrier between his wet bits and the sand, the pharaoh sat down at Kaiba's side.

Kaiba eyed him warily. "We're not cuddling."

"I'm not trying to cuddle." The pharaoh rubbed his wet hand briskly against Kaiba's coat before settling back against an adjacent pillar, Kaiba's reaction ringing musically in his ears. He felt a nap coming on.

As his eyelids began to droop, something niggled at the back of the pharaoh's brain. He opened his eyes again in time to watch the sky darken to the color of a deep bruise. In the distance, a column of red light exploded upward.

"Oh, right," the pharaoh muttered as the orgasm-fried switchboard of his brain began to light up again. Perhaps it had been insensitive to rush off while his cousin was grieving and an evil god was clawing its way back into reality. Quasi-reality. Wherever he was at the moment.

Kaiba nodded at the meteorological disturbance with the expression of one who had along ago become inured to surprise. "A few months ago, I came down with the flu and had to let Mokuba manage Kaiba Corp for two days. My fever was so high I was delirious." He paused thoughtfully. "I dreamt I was made of sesame seeds."

As the pharaoh rose and embarked on a futile quest to brush all the sand off his clothes, he growled, "For the last time, you're not dreaming!"

As if in reply, Kaiba's voice came incongruously from somewhere beyond the columns: "Pharaoh?"

Most of the circuits in the pharaoh's brain had been reset by now, so it didn't take more than a few confused seconds for him to work out that Kaiba's somewhat less infuriating preincarnation had come looking for him, and that he didn't want one of his priests stumbling upon the evidence of his little fertility problem, one manifestation of which had just returned to rub against his ankle like a cat.

"I'm be right there!" the pharaoh called back. An idea struck. "Prepare my mount!"

Kaiba sniggered.

As the pharaoh prepared a blistering retort about Kaiba's maturity level, he found his gaze drawn back to the darkened horizon. A monstrous, anatomically improbable silhouette marred the skyline, and information trickling in from his self-at-the-gameboard indicated that things were not going well.

"Ah," said Kaiba impassively. "Godzilla. With a penis. Yes, that's what this hallucination was missing."

"Kaiba!" The pharaoh loomed over him, scowling, one arm angrily akimbo and the other gesturing toward the demon thundering across the desert. "That thing is trying to destroy my kingdom, and if I can't do something about it, it's going to destroy the entire world. I am referring here to the end of all life as we know it. This is the goddamned _apocalypse_. Is any of this getting through to you?"

They eyed each other with naked exasperation.

"Sure, Yuugi. Call me when Gamera attacks Domino High."

Somewhere on the other side of frustration, a memory stirred of a day spent watching videos when Yuugi stayed home sick from school. "Impossible," the pharaoh replied sharply. "Gamera is _friend_ to all children."

Kaiba opened his mouth, then let out a snort and turned his attention back to the rampaging monster in the distance. His face suggested a level of interest appropriate to late-night television.

"Fine," the pharaoh snapped. "Don't come. See if I care." He whirled on his heel in a manner calculated to flare his cape out as impressively as possible. "You can just stay here. Alone. In the desert." He took three steps away, then halted. "I mean, there's just an embodiment of evil destroying the world. It's not as if I'd appreciate your help or anything."

There came another snort. "Whatever. Give my regards to your vagina."

The pharaoh threw the nearest Kuriboh at his head. It was a beautiful shot, smack into the middle of the face, and the sounds of the impact were the stuff that entire weeks of dreams could be made of.

In retrospect, once the smoke had cleared and the spirit of the Ring had stopped making faces at him across the gameboard, the pharaoh supposed that this was why Kaiba waited until the last possible minute to join the battle.


End file.
